


Schrödinger's Cat

by Merriwa



Series: TV shows & Tumblr prompts [1]
Category: Catfish: The TV Show, Rugby RPF, Rugby Union RPF
Genre: American Rugby AU, Catfish AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 00:13:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3269534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merriwa/pseuds/Merriwa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompted on Tumblr by Gaby : Maxime Machenaud/Brice Dulin + "I'll be right over"</p><p>Brice and Max meet online. Max isn't really who he says he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Schrödinger's Cat

**To:** c[atfish@mtv.com](mailto:Catfish@mtv.com)

**from:** [ gabysup@gmail.com ](mailto:gabysup@gmail.com)

**Subject:** Suspicious rugby game

_Dear Nev and Max,_

_We're living in Vancouver (BC) and we have this friend, Brice, who is one of the sweetest, funniest and brightest guy you'll ever meet. He's the Captain of our university rugby team and, about a year and a half ago, he met that guy from Seattle (WA), Maxime, on a rugby forum. They hit it off quickly and started corresponding more and more, bonding over the fact that they both speak French and bickering over Top14 teams. At some point, not a day could go by without hearing about how Maxime is great and funny and adorable and blablabla. They exchanged pictures about six months after they started talking – only because we had been bugging Brice about what his guy looked like – but not without a weird visible reluctance from that Maxime guy. We didn't think much of it at the time but then, things got weirder and weirder. Although they do talk on the phone almost every day, Maxime always has an excuse to avoid skyping or facetiming with Brice. Whether it's the bad internet connexion or the broken webcam... He's got strange working hours and he's never available on weekends or holidays to meet Brice, even though it's only a 2h30 drive and Brice offered to come several times._

_Brice is sweet and usually more down to earth, it's the first time we've seen him like this: he's just completely gone for this guy! It would suck so much if that was just a scam or some arsehole playing with him..._

_Can you help us find out?_

_\- Gaby & Charlie_

 

*

 

Brice's fingers are frozen, clutching to his Iphone like it'll make Maxime magically appear in the heavy snow falling around them.

Nev is looking into the-other-Max's camera repeating “It doesn't look good...” before asking Gaby “Do you think he's going to show up?”

His friend shrugs, visibly uncomfortable. Of course she doesn't think he's going to show up, Brice thinks bitterly, she thought Max was fishy from the beginning. He's not angry at her though. It's not her fault he's been a complete idiot all the way.

His phone buzzes in his hand and Nev grabs it from him before he has a chance to check if it's Maxime or not.

“He's texted!” the show host announces trying to hide his excitement “ **I'm sorry I can't make it in those circumstance. Call me,”** He reads outloud, “Looks like your boy stood us up, Brice. How does that makes you feel?” Nev asks, like the answer to his question is not painfully obvious.

Everything sucks and he feels so fucking dumb, that's how.

And furious. Against Maxime, against that stupid show and above all, against himself. Apparently, he spent almost two years opening up to some arsehole who is probably laughing his arse off right now. Somehow he had himself convinced that everything was fine. Like that cat in the box. Max could've been real and perfect just as much as he could've been a fake person. But Brice was _fine_ not knowing. The cat was _fine_ in its box. And now? He has to face up. 

Maxime knew everybody was suspicious, he probably googled the name of the show when Nev called him from Brice's phone. Maxime was the one to fix the date and the place to meet and now he's not going to come. Everybody is thinking the same right now: the guy is a fraud. He fell in love with a fucking dead cat. 

“Wanna try calling him right now?” Nev suggests when Brice just shrugs at the cameras.

“Or we could wrap it up here and go somewhere warmer to do it?” the-other-Max offers with a pitying smile.

“Can I get a minute to myself to call him?” Brice asks, knowing they'll be listening anyway.

“Yeah alright,” Nev agrees with a sympathetic smile before signaling everybody to back down.

Gaby gives him an encouraging kiss on the cheek, whispering “It's gonna be alright, okay?”

He nods absently, toying with his phone and waiting for everyone to give him a false sense of privacy.

When he dials Maxime's number, he has no idea of what he's going to say, but when the line connects, the words are out before he can filter anything “You know what sucks the most? All this time I kept defending you to everyone! Where you just laughing the whole time? I really hope you find all this funny because you win! I am miserable and you win!”

His voice is shaky with anger and he's trying his best to retain the tears threatening to spill. He's angry that Max can probably hear it.

“Brice...”

Maxime's tone is incredibly gentle and the warm sound of his voice makes Brice's heart stutter in his chest.

“I just wanted it to be real so bad...” Brice admits, strangled, not caring if he's digging himself a deeper grave.

“I am truly sorr-”

“No! No you don't get to do that anymore! This is not fair! I don't want your apologies anymore, I want to not stand alone in a freaking snowstorm waiting for someone who's never going to come!”

Maxime stays silent for what seems to Brice like an eternity.

His heart is pounding in his ears and his skin is burning from the cold.

“Don't leave.”

Maxime's whisper almost startles Brice, “What?”

“Don't leave,” Maxime repeats more firmly, “I didn't want to do that with the cameras but if this is what it takes to not lose you then I'll do it. Don't leave, I'll be right over.”

Brice's hand is shaking when puts his phone back in his pocket, trying to process the words.

Those motherfucking emotional rollercoaster just _have to stop._

Nev, the-other-Max and Gaby looks at him expectantly from a distance and Brice walks back toward them slowly, feeling suddenly very tired of everything.

“What did he say?” Nev asks pressingly while Gaby just silently puts a comforting hand between his shoulderblades.

“He's coming.”

“That's _Fantastic_!” Nev beams at him while the-other-Max gets his hand camera closer to him. “How does _that_ make you feel?”

“Nervous?” Brice shrugs off, taking care of facing the camera before suddenly thinking back to what Maxime said and asking tentatively “Could we maybe lose the cameras for when Maxime arrives?”

“Man, you're killing us here,” the-other-Max says, visibly torn, “this is a TV show, we can't film your phone calls, we can't film his arrival, you gotta let us have _something_...”

“No, you don't understand,” Brice pleads “he didn't want to come because of the cameras-”

“Why though? Does he have something to hide?” Nev argues with a frown.

“Yes and no. Mostly my agent and the club's PR team don't really think it's a good idea,” someone says behind him.

Brice almost loses his balance turning around so quickly. 

The first thought that rushes to his mind is “ _This is not Maxime._ ” This is not the picture of the guy he's been keeping on his computer for months, imagining how it would feel kissing those lips all the while telling himself he was being creepy as fuck. 

But it's... He's somehow even  _better_ . 

Bundled up in a heavy winter jacket, cheeks reddening from the cold and light hair all over the place with the wind. His big and soft brown eyes are looking directly at him with a mix of apprehension and something way more gentle. 

Something that makes Brice's voice die in his throat when he tries to say “You're-”

Nev and the-other-Max are frowning in confusion, Nev asking baffled “Wait wait! PR team what- _Who are you_ ?”

“This is Maxime Machenaud,” Gaby supplies helpfully, eyes opened wide with the same surprised shock Brice is feeling right now, “Scrum-half of the American Eagles and captain of the Seattle Saracens. Professional rygbyman,” she adds when the hosts don't immediately recognise the team's names.

“Can we... can we talk?” Maximes asks him pleadingly, ignoring the delighted pterodactyle noises Nev is making next to them, visibly to excited to figure out which question to ask first.

“Without the cameras?” he adds more firmly. 

Brice finds himself nodding without consulting anyone and grabs Maxime by the elbow with more self-confidence than he feels right now. 

Maxime follows him easily enough, picking up a quiet pace next to him, away from the small crew and his friend trying to contain the show hosts.

They walk in complete silence for a few minutes, until they can't hear anything but their frozen breath and the crunching sound of the fresh snow under their feet.

Now that the initial shock is wearing off, Brice looks back at the whole thing and strangely, everything kind of... adds up. From the fact that he knew Maxime like the back of his hand and not at all at the same time. All this privacy keeping and fishy timelines actually make sense in this light. 

Brice throws a quick glance at Maxime's profile, still expecting someone else to be here. It feels surreal. Brice doesn't quite manage to wraps his head around the fact that this Maxime, the gorgeous international rugby superstar, is the same Maxime that likes Katherine Heigl movies, peanut butter cupcakes and hates fedoras with a burning passion.

“It doesn't even make sense...” Brice whispers, uncertain.

Maxime stops walking and makes half a turn on his feet to face him. Brice's fingers are still resting against the wet material of Max's jacket.

“I handled this like moron,” Maxime starts, biting his lower lip nervously, “I am so sorry. I didn't... I didn't mean for things to go this far?”

Brice freezes, heart beating faster from the ugly fear bubbling up in his stomach. 

Something must be showing on his face because Max's expression turns slightly panicky and his hand fly up to grab Brice's arm gently.

“No, not like that,” he pleads, eyes wide and apologetic, “It was never a prank Brice. I swear! I... I usually don't hang around rugby forums much because I tend to get upset when everyone thinks they can play better than me but... You were here and you were funny with a quick wit and pertinent comments and not arrogant and I just thought 'wow I wish more of my friends were like that'. Then I messaged you and you actually replied and I... _I couldn't stop._ I knew I had to come clean at some point. But I was afraid you'd be upset that I kind of lied and I couldn't... I almost did tough! When we exchanged pictures...”

“Whose picture was that anyway?” Brice can't help but ask curiously.

Maxime blushes harder and replies visibly embarrassed “My mate Nathan? People say we look a bit alike and I didn't want to... mislead you... too much?”

“That's... considerate,” Brice finds himself saying, unable to hide a grin because: _Is this guy for real?_

Maxime shrugs visibly flustered and Brice just wants to grab him and kiss the shy smile away from his perfect mouth.

“I am sorry I ambushed you like that,” he apologies instead, feeling a little bad for his earlier hissy fit, now that he has the whole story.

“Don't be. I probably would've gotten frustrated way earlier than you, my teammates gave me so much shit about it. I kept waiting for the moment you were going to walk away to be honest.” Max admits, lowering his voice so much that Brice uses the excuse to take a step closer. “But you never did.”

“I didn't want to,” Brice reassures firmly.

“I am sorry I lied.”

Brice takes a deep breath, trying to process the fact that this is really, truly happening. 

“Apologies accepted,” he breathes out more calmly than he feels, “Although I'd appreciate if you didn't do it anymore? You know, just to be sure there are no more misunderstandings leading to TV show involvment in the mix...”

Maxime's smile is the happiest Brice has seen yet and he can't help but mirror it. They must look like total idiots, Brice reckons, but he couldn't care less.

“Believe me,” Maxime says, still smiling softly “I think my agent and the club's PR team would kill me if I kept getting myself in front of non-approved cameras!”

“Why though?” Brice asks, slightly confused, “What do they care who you're friend with? Is it because I live in Canada? Did you tell them I'm not rooting for any BCRU clubs?!”

Maxime chuckles nervously.

“No. As a matter of fact that's not the issue. hu... they care because I'm hoping I haven't completely misread the situation and... and apparently the gay-rugbyman-who-fell-in-love-with-a-Canadian-college-student-over-internet doesn't have a nice ring to it for them.”

Brice can't help the smile that settles, possibly forever, on his lips. 

“See, I knew the Canadian part was the problem!” he teases, making another step toward Maxime, who takes it as an invitation slides his arms around his hips and bring them closer.

“I have been wanting to kiss that smirk off your face since forever...” Max whispers, white smoke of his breath floating between them like a promise.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Brice asks playfully, burrying his hands into Max's coat pockets “I am not gonna yell 'Engage!' at you anytime soon...”

That's it, Brice just has the time to think, Max's laugh is the best thing he's ever heard in his life. 

And then Maxime's actually kissing him and his brain goes AWOL. His lips are cold and shaped against his, soft tongue and warm breath melting together. Around them, the snow has started to fall again and for the first time in a long while, Brice feels like home.

 


End file.
